Huh?
by BadAddy
Summary: Draco finds himself in an unexpected position. BtVS/HP X-Over. W/Draco (for now)


Title: Huh?

Author: Addy (BadAddy47@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: You know the drill; I don't own Harry Potter stuff, I don't own Buffy stuff; those honors go to J.K. Rawlings and Joss Whedon

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: W/Draco

Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Quickie Challenges, Semper Fidelis, OADNT, Twisting the Hellmouth, WLS

Summary: Draco finds himself in an unexpected position.

Spoilers/Notes:

For Willow: Summer after Graduation. Oz high-tailed it. She's 18.

For Harry & Draco: Summer between 6th and 7th year. They're 18.

I was working on Passion Potion, but this fic just had to come out. Blame my muse.

*~*~*~*~*~*

This was simply unacceptable. That was the only word for it. (Well, actually, there were other words for it; unsatisfactory, sub-par, distasteful, objectionable… but really, you can't just interrupt a train of thought like that with a thesaurus entry. It is simply unacceptable.) He, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy dynasty and all the came with it, had been reduced to this. Summer school. Not that his grades were unacceptable (unsatisfactory, sub-par, distaste… well, you get the idea) – they were among the highest in his class. But they were not _the_ highest, and so he was here. For extra-credit. How else could he guarantee that _he_ would become head boy, not Weasely, or even worse, Potter? Apparently, family name didn't count for anything here; the failure of the lightly veiled threats his father had delivered to Dumbledore was proof enough of that. So here he was, taking an extra class over the summer, just to prove he would go above and beyond when necessary. He was put into Slytherin for a reason, after all: ambition. (All right, and maybe because of his mischievous and destructive tendencies; those nasty little habits probably played a role, too.) So he was in the "Magical Muggle Exchange Program," in America. And not even the part of America that had the decency to impersonate civilized society, like Boston or Salem. (OK, maybe Salem wasn't the best example, what with the witch burning and all. But it wasn't as if any _real_ witches were hurt. Sheesh!) No, he was in some little no where town called Sunnydale on the West Coast of America. He had arrived here, in front of a house that had the name 'Rosenberg' on the mailbox, as instructed, and was now waiting. He was supposed to teach some girl…Willow?… the ways of the wizarding world, and she, in turn, would teach him the basics of Muggle life. As if he wanted to know. He figured if he could just scare her with some small trick the first day, he could intimidate her enough to let him alone. He could probably even sneak off for days at a time if he played his cards right. And if she gave him any problems… well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it-

Malfoy was ripped away from his thoughts as someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. The hand had dirt under its nails and was leaving a smudge on Draco's robe. This girl wasn't just a mudblood, she had a poor sense of hygiene too? Draco shuddered as he began to turn around. "So you're the little girl-"

And promptly shut up as he came face-to-face with the golden eyes, ridges, and fangs of a very hungry – and very insulted – vampire. "Who you callin' a little girl?"

Draco began fumbling for his wand, but the vamp pinned both of his hands down to his side. "Hungry…" the vampire mumbled as it bent down to Draco's neck, fangs poised over the jugular. The creature bit down and Malfoy felt his blood, and with it his very life, being sucked out of his veins. This couldn't be the end of the Malfoy dynasty, could it? (Yes, many people spend their last moments thinking of the family that they'll miss, the things they'll never get to do or say, the good times that they had as children; Malfoy thought about the family name. Gives ya that warm and fuzzy feeling, doesn't it?) He struggled uselessly, his vision slowly fading to black until suddenly, the suction on his neck disappeared, and there was dust everywhere. He wasn't dying! This called for celebration, or at least some kind of witty comment. But he was struck dumb. In the back of his mind, he realized someone was speaking to him. "Huh?"

"I said, are you okay?" a concerned voice from behind him asked. He started to turn around to face the source of the melodic sound, but world started turning with him and he felt his knees buckle. With speed he couldn't begin to comprehend, a pair of soft, strong arms caught him before he hit the ground. He blinked blearily, trying to bring the blurry dark red and pale white colors he was seeing into focus. A face was hovering over his, the nearby streetlight giving its pale skin an ethereal glow and green eyes a striking sparkle. But he suspected those features would have been just as enchanting anyway.

"Are you an angel?"

The gentle laugh that rang in his ears sounded delightful. "No, he's in Los Angeles. Are you Draco Malfoy?"

He nodded mutely.

She smiled, and he could have sworn the light around her face became brighter. "Oh good. I've been expecting you."

This heavenly creature had been expecting him? Not just love at first sight, but love before first glance? (Give him a break, he's just had about 3 pints of blood 'liberated,' as Spike would put it, from his circulatory system. And he hasn't had the orange juice and cookies that usually comes with donating blood. So his perception of love, heaven, and all things fluffy is bound to be a little… off. And it doesn't help that he's overly acquainted with all things dark in the first place.) The he heard the voice again. "Oh, you're bleeding." He heard something tear, then felt a warm piece of cloth tenderly press against the puncture holes on his neck.

Suddenly he was floating, while soothing fingers were holding a bandage to his neck. Where had that material come from? He wondered to himself, until he saw a jagged tear instead of the hem of the girl's shirt, as well as a pale, toned midriff. She walked alongside him (giving him an excellent view of said midriff) until they reached the front door of her house. She opened the door without touching it. "Come on, let's get you inside the house. The other exchange student is already here," she said while she led him in, before lowering him carefully onto the couch. Two words she said were now stuck about his mind, pestering him. What had she said…

Exchange student?

*This* was the girl from the Magical Muggle Exchange Program?

And… there was another one?

"Harry," she said, "Couldja please bring me the spell book on the counter? I want to heal this wound."

"Sure, Willow," he heard an all-too-familiar voice reply.

'Please,' Malfoy thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut, 'Merlin, *Please* let it be a different Harry. Anyone but Harry Potter.' When he open his eyes again, a pair of green eyes were looking down on him. But these eyes had a lightening-shaped scar right above them that was nearly covered by unruly black hair.

*Willow* had saved him? Harry *Potter* was the other exchange student? And the three of them would be living under the same roof, *together,* for the next three months?

Only one more thought managed to make its way through the cloud settling over his mind: This *definitely* wasn't in the course description.

After which Malfoy promptly passed out.

* End Fic *

This sorta stands by itself, but I might be persuaded to make it a series… if I get feedback:) Makes me happy.


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